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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29614638">Potatoes and Pie</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authorexx/pseuds/Authorexx'>Authorexx</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Law &amp; Order: SVU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drabbles, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Some very mild tipsy-ness, silliness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:07:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>564</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29614638</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authorexx/pseuds/Authorexx</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Carisi and Rollins find themselves at a late-night diner after an evening of drinks.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr./Amanda Rollins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Potatoes and Pie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dedicated to the Special Fan Unit and our conversation about Waffle House! -Ax</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“No, no, you gotta get them with—with all the shit on ‘em.”  Amanda leaned over the table, dangerously close to knocking over their coffee mugs as she pointed repeatedly at the laminated menu on the table, her words slightly slurring together.  “You gotta eat ‘em <em>right.”</em></p><p>“Rollins, I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about,” Sonny laughed, nudging his overzealous partner back into her seat in the booth.  “It’s just potatoes.”</p><p>“It’s not ‘just potatoes,’ Dominick, they’re <em>hash browns.</em>  And you need to get them scattered, smothered, and covered.”  Amanda sat back and crossed her arms, the slightest of pouts on her lips.</p><p>“Tell me you’re still talking about food,” Sonny sighed, putting a hand to his forehead.  “Nothing about that sounds appealing.”</p><p>“Then learn to read, city boy,” Amanda mocked, pointing at the menu again.  “See?  ’S’all there.”</p><p>Dominick relented, turning his attention to the menu.  The various “fixins,” as Amanda had declared them earlier that evening, were listed in the center column of the page.  He quickly decoded Amanda’s seemingly nonsensical talk into something that sounded like actual food: hash browns with cheese and onions.  There were other things to try, but Amanda was adamant on this particular preparation.</p><p>“Get a triple, Sonny, I’m hungry,” Amanda said, resting her head on his shoulder.  “Or else you won’t get to eat any.”</p><p>“I thought their thing here was waffles,” Sonny joked, indicating the top of the menu.</p><p>Amanda’s head rocked back and forth on his shoulder.  “Nuh-uh,” she said, “it’s all about the hash browns.”  She paused, and then a serene smile lit up her face.  “And sometimes the pie.”</p><p>“Pie?” Sonny couldn’t help but laugh—how could a place like this serve pie?  It was a tiny diner on the side of the road—pie wouldn’t likely be their specialty.</p><p>“It’s just the same kind you can buy at the store, but here… here it’s special.”  Amanda sighed, sipping her coffee.  “My daddy took Kim and I for Christmas dinner one time; we were on the way back from the dog track in Florida… and I got a slice of chocolate pie all to myself.”</p><p>Sonny could picture it now—a skinny little blonde kid squished into a booth beside her sister, her blue eyes as big as dinner plates as their Christmas “dinner” made its way onto the little table.  Ham, eggs, bacon, toast, waffles, hash browns—with the proper fixins—and a generous slice of chocolate pie.  He glanced over at the tipsy woman beside him, seeing the same eyes of that little girl over her coffee mug.  “Rollins,” he said, suddenly straightening in his seat, “Um…”</p><p>“Hm?”  Amanda blinked, smiling over at him, her hands clutching the ceramic of the mug.  “What’s on your mind?”</p><p>“I… clearly don’t know what I’m doing here,” he said, sliding the menu in her direction.  “Get whatever you want; I got it.”</p><p>“You don’t need to take care of me,” Amanda protested, giggling, “I’m a big girl—“</p><p>“Maybe I want to take care of you,” Sonny said, looking away as he interrupted.  “Just… anything you want; don’t worry about it.”</p><p>“Alright; okay.” Amanda held up her hands in surrender with a shrug.  “Trust me, you’ll like it.”</p><p>“I’ll trust you about more than just potatoes,” Sonny chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee.  “As long as you’re not the one cookin’ them.”</p>
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